the thought of the thought of the event reduces me to a slight frenzy of disillusionment and mistrust, culminating in an overall sense of the feeling that leads to an emotion that reasons with logic and argues with disparity before unveiling itself to an erringly eager conciousness which stands up tall, free of all notions of regret and obligation, masked behind lost poems and the voices of dissent, all those hours of hope and the multiple false dawns, the strained eyes looking through the window, waiting waiting waiting, thinking of last time, hoping and waiting again, pleading with the stars to make this the only time, and then waiting again, the singular and the right thing to do, i want this more than anything and together we belong, so i take a deep breath and say, did you have a nice weekend?
